The Fragmented Thoughts of a Mage in Battle
by Kitty Ryan
Summary: A look into the minds of Tortall's favourite mages as they battle evil Scanrans and sex, father figures, wax, marital bliss, pregnancy related shapeshifting and now, finally, old age. All poems now reformated, and therefore semi readable.
1. Salmalin vs Hadensra

**The fragmented thoughts of a mage in battle - and why it's very difficult to kill someone quickly, painlessly, politely, and without scarring.**

_Kitty Ryan, 2001_

* * *

For every action,  
There is a reaction.  
For every death,  
Life.  
This I know.  
Ingrained as it is,  
In my mind,  
Ever since,  
Well…  
Ever since forever.  
That is the great knowledge,  
The wisdom,  
Of the Mages. 

One…  
Two…  
Three…  
Eleven words.  
Two fragmented sentences.  
Which all with my gift,  
Must obey.

But, really,  
Really, really and truly,  
Those laws and those vows,  
Might as well  
Go back to the mouth which first uttered them,  
Via the back entrance.  
For when you're meant to kill someone,  
It should  
At least  
Be done quickly.  
Painlessly  
Without any scarring.  
Politely.

But in my experience,  
The only spells that allow you to kill,  
Quickly, painlessly, politely,  
And without any scarring  
Are very, very illegal.

This other mage,  
The one with the ruby eye  
Garish and glinting in the sun,  
Appears to have far less scruples,  
Than I.  
More's the pity,  
For that spell hurt.  
A stinging,  
Fiery  
Pain.  
And I'm too tired to use my  
Bloody shield.  
Too tired.  
In too much pain.

I wonder how Daine is.  
Alive?  
Dead?  
Like I'm going to be  
If I don't do something  
Extremely quickly.

A muttered spell.  
A tearing in the ground.  
A chasm.  
That should keep him busy,  
At least for a while.

Damn.  
More pain.  
That's going to leave scars.  
He is good.  
The sadist.  
I really think,  
That he's enjoying this.

Another spell,  
An interesting curse.  
I wish…  
What _do_ I wish?  
I wish for Daine's safety,  
Her happiness  
And that of many others.  
I wish this were over.

Oh, hell.  
If this keeps up,  
These petty exchanges of petty spells,  
This pain  
And this apathy that seems to follow it,  
Like a shadow,  
Than let legality  
Go back to its god.  
Anyway,  
Even lawyers  
I suppose,  
Were children once.  
I'm sure they'll understand.  
So, I might as well get it over with.

I say the spell.  
I hear a scream.  
I see nothing.  
I've hit the ground.  
It's over.

Oh.  
This is _not_ fair.  
Someone's coming.  
For there to be a reaction,  
There must be an action.  
For every life,  
Death.  
And if this person is bringing mine,  
Whoever you are,  
You'll need to do it,  
While I remain prone.  
And have the decency to be quick about it,

So I can get back to my rest.


	2. Salmalin vs Libido

**The fragmented thoughts of a mage in battle - subtitled: a woman dressed in blue.**

_Kitty Ryan, 2002_

_

* * *

_

I've always gone for a woman dressed in blue.  
A beautiful colour, that.  
So many shades,  
Hundreds, thousands of shades.  
The fabric soft and calm,  
Flowing against the being beneath it.

Yes, the woman behind the blue.  
The woman to which the fabric clings.  
Whispering with her every moment.  
Whispering,  
So it seems,  
Only to me.

Mithros,  
Mynoss,  
And Shakith!  
What am I thinking?  
Well…  
I know perfectly well what I'm thinking.  
But still, it is inexcusable.  
Dark,  
Dangerous,  
Unhealthy thoughts  
For _this_ woman,  
This woman dressed in blue,  
Is not a woman.  
But a girl.

A mere slip of a girl.  
A slip of a girl who is looking at me,  
With those big, grey-blue eyes.  
Beautiful eyes,  
Bright with the excitement  
And the bright, pretentious Charthakian grandeur,  
Of all they are compelled to take in.  
Bright with concern.  
Concern for me.  
Though why,  
Why these big eyes look at me like this,  
Like I am something precious  
That she wants to be kept safe,  
I do not know.

(But I wish,  
I wish  
That she would look at me.  
Like I am something precious,  
All the time.)

Numair…  
Stop.  
Stop now.  
Stop before…  
Oh.  
She's walking up the dais now.  
That woman-child,  
Dressed in blue.  
Walking to where my former friend,  
My current enemy,  
(Apart from myself,  
And my treacherous thoughts)  
Is sitting in his golden,  
Nauseating glory.

She curtsies.  
Blue fabric fanning out.  
Rustling,  
Whispering,  
Perfect.  
She is perfect.  
And it seems,  
It does appear,  
That some of those clerks agree.

Annoyed as this makes me,  
I have to compliment them,  
On their good taste.  
Though I shouldn't be annoyed,  
Or anything of _that_ sort.  
For I am not her father,  
To frown upon her suitors.  
Nor am I her lover,  
To battle them off.

Though sometimes,  
Actually, almost all-times,  
I wish that…

Stop tormenting me!  
Evil,  
Compromising thoughts.  
Uncomfortable  
Unbearable  
Feelings.  
This is wrong.  
Very, very wrong.  
Though rather delicious,  
I have to admit.

Here she comes,  
Looking tired and strained.  
Biting her lip.  
I smile.  
I stroke her cheek.  
I shiver.  
I ask her how she went.  
An innocent question.  
To which she gives an innocent answer.  
And innocent she is.  
Not in life,  
But of my feelings.

My warm, aching,  
Incredible and twisted feelings.  
Feelings that make me  
Make my helpless body and mind,  
Crave her.  
Long for her.  
For her to fly me to the moon.  
And dance among the stars.  
Then for us to fall  
Spent,  
Back to the world.

Go away, you feelings.  
You fantasies,  
And dreams.  
Leave me be.

Oh my.  
What am I seeing?  
_Who _am I seeing?  
This vision I thought was lost.  
Who is holding out a hand?  
Not dressed in blue.  
But in clinging satin.  
Rose-petal pink.

I stand up,  
She leads me away.  
And I give one last, lingering look,  
At the woman,  
No--  
The girl,  
Dressed in blue.


	3. Queenscove vs Queenscove

**The Fragmented Thoughts of a Mage (_About to Learn How to be In_) Battle**

_Kitty Ryan, 2003_

* * *

**Note:** Forgive the break in pattern, but Neal simply wouldn't shut up.

* * *

Well, sir, I don't know what to say  
Don't laugh, it's true  
I'm lost for words,  
Mute even in excuses,  
Not blind, but seeing only the way.

'The way of _what?_' you demand,  
Your voice joined by hundreds more.  
I try to answer; I laugh the levity off.  
But I can't pull off a Player's act.  
I need this change,  
This way of _life  
_(There, sir, I said it.)

Where our talents lie does not make your life my law.

This choice is mine to make, sir.  
You know it is, in the end.  
And I know you know, you see,  
So don't complain,  
(_Too _much)  
At this transition,  
This apparently mad decision,  
To learn how to create the wounds,  
That I've been learning to mend.

Yes, I am mad.  
You've known it, and I've known it.  
I've been doing perfectly well where I was,  
I have a skill, and all that.  
I will hate the crudity,  
The bluntness,  
The lack of debate.  
Too old and too opinionated,  
Yet I seem to be like a child,  
Acting on a whim, 'just because!'

Because I can, because I want to, Because I _need_.

Well, now you've said your piece, and I've put down my needle.  
I'm five years late already.  
Say your 'I told you so's, as I whine about the warriors world,  
As both you and I know I shall.  
But don't hold be back,

And never ask me why.

'Why?'

Because I refuse to justify justice.


	4. Draper vs Candle

The Fragmented Thoughts of a Mage in Battle

Or, why it doesn't do to mess with wax

* * *

_Kitty Ryan, 2003

* * *

_**Note: **Back to Numair, now, though at a rather different age.

* * *

Glow, candle, glow  
Catch on for me, and sparkle.  
Flicker orange, with blue inside,  
Like creations of your kind  
Are meant to do. 

You hear that, oh enemy made of wax?  
As embarrassing as it is,  
I've been forced,  
To speak,  
To you.

Candle, I know you're not stupid.  
You're far too evil for that.  
Give off a little heat, why don't you?  
A smidge of light.  
Don't turn purple, black or green.  
It can't be so hard,  
To so small a thing.

You _melt _easily enough,  
You stain a desk I'm meant to keep clean.  
You distort,  
You shrink,  
You _grow.  
_You spray in strawberry-scented _droplets,  
_And yesterday, you decided to explode.

Congratulations, on having talents.  
For an inanimate object  
You've done very, very well.  
Too well.  
Enough is _enough  
_So, candle,  
If you're listening to me  
Here's the deal:  
Less is _more_, you hear?

I,  
Arram Draper  
Who will be a Great Mage,  
One day,  
(Someday?  
Possibly Monday, if Master Lindhall has his way)  
Will not use his untrained,  
Black-and-white  
White-and-black  
Singularly _frustrating  
_Magic  
To obliterate all of your waxen kind,  
If you promise to glow for me,  
Just this once,  
So I can pass my exam,  
Today.

Glow, candle.  
Glow.


	5. Salmalin vs Sarrasri

The Fragmented Thoughts of a Mage in Battle

Marital Bliss. Dialogue.

* * *

_K. Ryan, 2003_

* * *

------Marry me, my love.

--Why?

------Why not!

--That's a pointless question!

------A pointless question of great personal importance.

--You're quite the poet when you want to be.

------I know.

--You thought that was a compliment?

------Philistine.

--Academic.

------Beautiful woman.

--You're trying to distract me.

------Don't you like it?

--Only when there are no loose threads. Why did you ask me, again?

------To see if your answer has changed. Isn't that obvious?

--Oblivious.

------Caustic, love.

--What?

------Caustic: sharp, corrosive…oh, it doesn't matter.

--My answer does, and you know it.

------I_ know it? _

--You do. You should. You'd better.

------Is that… a threat?

--Would you like it to be?

------Now_ who's distracting? _

--Silly man!

------Self-declared. Now, please_, has your answer changed? _

--Not on your life.

INowplease 

Such are the exchanges between the genuinely affectionate.


	6. Salmalìn vs Salmalìn Heir Apparent

**The (_particularly_) Fragmented Thoughts of a Mage in Battle** (as he tries to keep his stomach settled)

**Or: **_Ah...pregnant couples. How lovely._

**

* * *

**

_K. Ryan, December 2004_

_

* * *

_

fan-tailed with wings to terrify  
(fly-on-octopi-legs)  
lima-fur fading into insect fragile flamingo  
and an orange orangutan flies  
immersed in scattering scales  
jeweled jasper hide hiding  
meerkat-muskrat joints jaybird  
bigger-bellied cerebral centipede dances  
diaphanous membrane making snake  
skin slipping spiders' seven antlers  
arranging platypus-pouch for forelegs  
found where whales live  
live whale song softly wakes  
lethargic-lethal-sloth  
(sometimes-finch)  
feral.


	7. Salmalìn vs Old Age

**Salmalìn vs. Old Age**

_K. Ryan, 2005._

* * *

There are lines in her face. They drag  
At her lips, her eyes, her chin  
The downward pull where ends begin.  
The skin of her throat paper-thin.  
Corded veins shine through in blue. 

Strands, then swathes, of hair now grey  
Pigment shying from display  
After years under sun and skin.  
Her lungs have let the rattle in

On her hips and thighs, streaks silver gleam  
Dimples and hatchings,  
Obvious in the lean  
Of body bent and claw-like cling  
To the cane in her hand, it tells most of all  
Life beats under a dingy pall  
Broken by a dry-lipped smile.

Yet she is beautiful still, you see.  
I love her most, she moves me best  
I dread her day of final arrest.  
Selfish in my desire to be first.  
Always, I am the worst.  
Especially when I want to see  
How after all these years, she thinks of _me_.


End file.
